No Happy Endings
by luvforsawyer
Summary: preRENT: Roger and Maureen have a history more complicated and heartbreaking than anyone imagines.
1. Prequel

**Note: **_Okay, so I haven't abandoned my other stories, but this is a lil plot-bunny that just wouldn't go away. It's a look at preRENT life. This first chapter is actually a prequel. Subsequent chapters begin in 1982 and work forward towards Maureen meeting Mark._

* * *

Roger picked up his notebook and headed for the fire escape. Mimi saw something drop to the ground. She leaned down and grabbed it.

"Babe, you dropped—" she stopped when she saw what the picture was. "Why was there a picture of Maureen in your notebook."

"Give it back."

"Why?"

"Because it's mine."

"Why is there a picture of her in your notebook?"

"Mimi, just give it back."

"Are you sleeping with her?"

"No."

"Then what the hell is this doing in your notebook?"

Roger clenched his jaw, refusing to answer. Mimi turned to Mark. "What the hell is this doing in his notebook?"

Mark shrugged. "How should I know?"

He crossed from the kitchen to the living area and looked over Mimi's shoulder at the picture. It was old. From before he'd met Maureen. He shook his head frowning. "I've never seen it."

"Tell me what's going on or I'll call her and ask her what the hell is going on."

Roger sighed. Mark saw a tired sadness in his eyes that he hadn't noticed before.

"If you want to know, she has to be here too."

Mimi nodded. "Fine."

"Give me a minute," he said, picking up the cordless phone.

Roger waited until he was in his room with the door shut before dialing.

"Hello?"

"Maureen, it's me. You and Joanne need to come over now."

"Something wrong?"

Roger sighed. "Mimi found a picture."

"So?"

"She found one of _the_ pictures," he said carefully.

Maureen gasped. "You mean…you mean…"

"Yeah."

"We'll be there in ten. Call Collins and Benny. I'm only going through this once."

"Okay."

He hung up and called Collins's apartment. Benny answered. He was staying with Collins until the divorce was finalized and he could find a place of his own.

"Ben, we need you and Collins to come over now."

"Okay. Why? What's goin' on?"

"Everyone's fine. There's just something that I have to tell you guys. Something Maureen and I have to tell you guys."

"We'll leave now."

* * *

"What the hell is going on?" Joanne asked.

"Everyone sit down," Roger said.

"Why is my boyfriend carting around pictures of you?"

"Meems, calm down," Collins said. He eyed Roger and Maureen, his eyes a mix of confusion and mild amusement.

"I'm sure there's a logical reason for this," Mark said.

"There is."

"Yeah," Roger said, "see, um…the thing is…that picture that Mimi found…it's from, uh…okay, a while back…"

"We were married."

Collins started to choke on his beer. Mark patted his back. "I must be losing my hearing. Sounded like you said you and Roger were married."

"We were."

"And this was some drunken thing that happened and then you got divorced, right?" Mimi asked.

"No," Roger said, his voice getting defensive.

"We got married the week after my eighteenth birthday and we were completely sober," Maureen said.

"Honeybear, just how long were you two together?"

"We dated for two years and were married for almost four."

"Why the hell didn't you tell us?"

Maureen looked at Roger.

"It's…we didn't know how to…"

"Easy. You say, 'Hi, I'm Roger. This is my ex-wife, Maureen,'" Mimi said.

"It's not that simple," Roger said.

"Why not?"

"What?"

"Why isn't it that simple? What aren't you telling us?" Collins asked.

Roger swallowed and sighed. Maureen's arms were crossed in front of her and she wouldn't meet anyone's eyes.

"Well?" Benny asked.

Maureen shook her head, tears in her eyes. "I can't do this."

"We have to," Roger said quietly. "You promised…you promised if they ever found out—"

"And we both know promises mean a hell of a lot to you."

Roger winced. "Maureen…"

"It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"I know."

"Fine. We'll tell them everything."


	2. 1982

**Note: **_Alright this chapter's full of fluff but that's just to show how happy and in love Roger and Maureen were. Lots of drama to come. Enjoy!_

_

* * *

1982_

Maureen thought she'd have butterflies. Instead, she stared down the alter at Roger waiting with the minister, his hands clasped in front of him, and felt a peace wash over her. Her eyes locked on his as she and her father made their way up to the front of the chapel.

Her father stopped. He lifted the veil to kiss her cheek and dropped it again. Turning, he shook Roger's hand, then took Maureen's hand and slipped it into Roger's.

"I love you," Roger mouthed.

"I love you too," she mouthed back.

The chapel was less than half-full. Roger's parents sat on one side with his brother and sister-in-law. Maureen's parents sat on the other side with her grandparents. The wedding party was almost non-existent. Roger's best friend and Maureen's younger sister served as best man and maid of honor. Roger's niece acted as flower girl.

"…And so, by the powers vested in me by the state of Pennsylvania, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss—"

Roger flipped the veil up and kissed her, dipping her backwards for dramatic effect. His brother whistled. They pulled apart, Maureen blushing.

"The bride," the minister finished with a laugh. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's my pleasure to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Roger Davis."

* * *

"That's the last box," Roger said, dropping it on the floor.

Maureen smiled and kissed his sweaty forehead. "Thanks, babe."

"Hey, what about me?"

Maureen smiled over at her brother-in-law. "Thank you, Mike."

"Welcome. I gotta head out, though. Told Karen I'd be home for dinner."

"Later," Roger said.

"Bye."

"Thanks for all your help, Mike," Maureen said.

"You're welcome. See you kids later."

When he was gone, Roger's hands grabbed Maureen's hips and dragged her back to the couch. She fell into his lap, giggling.

"Baby! You're all sweaty!" she laughed, squirming.

"Maybe we should get you all sweaty too," he said.

Roger lay down on the couch, holding her on top of him. She laughed but leaned down and kissed him.

"You, Mr. Davis, are impossible."

Roger laughed and tilted his head to kiss the tip of her nose. "Yeah, but you love me anyway, Mrs. Davis."

* * *

"Maureen! Babe, where are you?"

"In the kitchen," she called.

Roger ran in and caught her around the waist. He spun her around.

"Roger!" she laughed. "What's—"

"We got a gig!" he said, setting her down.

"What?"

"The Well-Hungarians. We got a gig!"

"Are you serious?"

Roger nodded and Maureen threw her arms around his neck. "Baby!"

"Manager said if he likes us, he'll hook u s up with a buddy of his who runs a club in New York City!"


	3. First Secrets

**Note: **_Thanks for all the reviews! I'm glad everyone seems excited to see what happens. _

**Warning: **_The rating has now been changed to M for language, drug use, and character death._

* * *

A few months went by and the Well-Hungarians began playing monthly shows in New York City. The shows were weekends. During the week, Roger worked as lead mechanic at an auto shop. Maureen worked as a receptionist for a local doctor's office. One Friday a month, they'd drive into the city.

Maureen sat up front for each show, grinning each time she heard another woman gushing over how sexy the lead singer was. She felt a territorial pride at the knowledge that Roger was so attractive to other women, but would always go home with her.

As they neared their first anniversary, it became harder for Maureen to go every month into the city. The first show she missed, Maureen had the flu. Roger wanted to cancel but Maureen insisted that she was fine and he should go. The second time, her sister was going through a tough breakup and needed Maureen. Slowly, Maureen accompanying Roger became less of a guarantee and more of a hoped-for surprise. At the same time, the band began booking more gigs so that one weekend a month became two, then three. Now the couple was apart almost every weekend.

Roger didn't tell Maureen about the drugs. He only used backstage. At first, it was just pot. One weekend, though, the drummer brought out a bag of cocaine. Roger walked out, intending to drive home that night. He ran into his brother on the way out.

"Mike? What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, grinning.

Mike hugged him. "Figured I'd see you boys play and then come play with you all."

He raised his chin in greeting to the band members over Roger's shoulder. Roger felt a wave of embarrassment that his brother was about to see the drugs.

"Hey, Mikey!"

"Score anything good?" Mike asked, brushing past Roger.

"Coke."

"Nice!"

Roger watched in confusion as his older brother went to the drummer and helped him prepare a line.

"Wait a minute," Roger said. "You do this shit?"

Mike shrugged. "Sure. No big deal. You ever done it?"

Roger shook his head.

"You don't know what you're missing, brother."

"Does Karen know?"

"No and you better keep your mouth shut. Don't say nothin' to Maureen either."

Roger stared, dumbfounded as his brother snorted a quick line. Mike looked to him expectantly. He hesitated and gave a weak smile. Maybe it wasn't so bad. Mike did it so it couldn't be that bad, right? Roger took a deep breath and stepped up to the line Mike had left for him.

* * *

"Roger, we need to talk."

It was a month after their first anniversary.

"That can't be good," he teased.

Maureen sat beside him, smiling. "I think it's good."

Roger set down his guitar. "Okay. What's going on?"

She took a deep breath. "I, um…I'm pregnant."

"What?"

"I mean, I know we weren't exactly planning it but—"

"But we're having a baby!" he said with a smile. Roger took her face in his hands and kissed her. "I love you."

"Love you too."

* * *

As Maureen neared her sixth month of pregnancy, she hardly ever came with Roger to his gigs. Part of him was glad she stayed home. It meant he could hang out with the guys. And Mike was coming to nearly every show. They'd grown apart as they'd grown up. Roger was glad to be spending time with his big brother again. If that meant he had to get high, then so be it. Roger wasn't addicted. Besides, he was starting to like the feeling.

One morning changed it all. Roger rolled over and found himself lying in bed with a woman who wasn't Maureen. He dressed and went out to his car. As he drove home, Roger cursed himself and debated what exactly he should tell Maureen.

She was a wreck when he got home. That didn't necessarily mean anything. Her natural flair for dramatics combined with the hormones of pregnancy could turn nearly anything into a crisis. Maureen flung her arms around him.

"Honey, I'm so sorry," she cried.

She was sorry? For what?

"What? Why?"

Maureen stepped back. "You're home early…Isn't that because your mom got in touch with you?"

Roger shook his head. "No…Why? What happened?"

"It's Mike. He…he overdosed on cocaine."

"What?"

"Apparently he'd been using a while. Karen had caught him a couple times but thought he stopped."

"Is, um, is he okay?" Roger asked, tears rushing to his eyes.

Maureen's tears fell quietly down her cheeks as she shook her head. "By the time Karen found him, it was too late."

* * *

After the funeral, Maureen and Roger returned to the house in silence. She sat on the couch beside Roger.

"Roger?"

"Hmm?"

"You didn't talk to anyone before you came home. Right?"

Roger shook his head.

"Then how come you came home early?"

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I just missed you."

Maureen stiffened. "Karen tried to call you."

"What? When?"

"When she couldn't find Mike... He told her he was going to the city to see you. She called your hotel. They told her you never checked in."

Roger stood up and began pacing, running his hands through his hair. "Maureen, please. Not now, okay?"

"Now Roger. Now. Where were you?"

"Maureen, I didn't mean to…I-I didn't…I was…"

"Roger, just tell me what happened."

He blinked back tears and stopped pacing, his back to her. He turned slowly to face her. "I cheated," he said softly.

Maureen's tears were immediate. She crossed her arms protectively over her belly. Roger stretched a hand out.

"No! Don't touch me. You do not touch me!"

Roger ignored his own tears and dropped to his knees. "Maureen, please…I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't…I was so fucked up. I never—"

"You were fucked up? On what?"

Roger bit his lip and stared at the ground.

"Oh God," she whispered. "You're on coke too…"

Roger couldn't say anything. He felt Maureen's hands on either side of his face. She lifted his face until he was looking her in the eye, both of them still crying.

"It stops now."

"What does?"

"The cocaine and anything else you might be doing."

"I'm not doing anything else," he said. His voice was more defensive than he'd intended.

"If you don't stop, me and the baby are gone."

Roger's face paled. "No, Maureen, no, please—"

"Please nothing! This isn't about us, Roger. I'm not raising our son with a father who's a junkie…"

"I know, and you're right. You're right. I'll stop. I won't touch it ever again. Just please. Please don't leave."

Maureen's tears were still falling as she hugged him. "You can't do this, Roger. You can't do this to yourself or to this baby."


	4. New Life

Roger told the band he needed a break. He had to get clean. He couldn't lose Maureen and the baby. Pete, the drummer, was shaken by Mike's overdose and told Roger the band wouldn't replace him. Pete wanted to get clean too. Roger hated leaving the band even temporarily, but it was the only way to get away from the drugs.

* * *

Roger stood by the hospital bed and handed the baby to Maureen's mother.

"Oh, he's beautiful," she cooed.

"What name did you decide on?" Maureen's father asked.

"Aaron Michael Davis."

"Good name," he said, kissing his daughter's forehead.

Nancy Johnson passed her grandson to his grandfather and hugged Roger. "Congratulations, Daddy."

* * *

When they'd left an hour later, Roger sat in the rocking chair watching Maureen feed the baby. He waited until she was finished and kissed her forehead. She scooted over and patted the bed for Roger to lie with her and Aaron. Roger slid one arm over her shoulders and draped the other arm across her and the baby.

"Thank you," he whispered, leaning over to kiss her.

"For what?"

"Aaron. Everything."

Maureen smiled up at him. "I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

Just after Aaron's first birthday, the Well-Hungarians reunited. Maureen was almost more excited than Roger. Soon enough, they were back to regular weekend gigs in the city. Maureen stayed home with Aaron most weekends. Once in a while, her mother babysat so she could go. For the most part, though, Maureen liked being home with Aaron.

Unfortunately, the return of routine gigs also meant the return of drugs. Pete had relapsed almost immediately. Roger promptly refused each time. Instead, he'd leave after each gig, go to his hotel room and call Maureen.

Everything changed slowly. Roger wanted to move to the city. Maureen was hesitant. Aaron was nearly two and the city could be dangerous to anyone. She didn't know what to think when Roger began spending more and more time in the city. She didn't know what to think of the money from the gigs that was lessening with each show.

One afternoon, Maureen was doing laundry and came across a pair of Roger's jeans. Her husband had an unfortunate habit of leaving money, keys, even his wallet in his pockets. As always, she began to empty the pockets. She froze when the little baggie fell to the floor without a sound. Maureen bent to pick it up.

"What that?" Aaron asked.

Maureen jumped. She hadn't heard him come into the laundry room. She shook her head and tucked it into her pocket. "Nothing, honey. Nothing. You go play, okay?"

Aaron stood staring at her, at the tears in her eyes. "How come Mommy's cryin'?"

Maureen hesitated, not sure how to answer.

"Is you sad?"

"Yeah, yeah Mommy's just a little sad honey."

Aaron tugged on her arm until she bent down. He hugged her as tightly as his little arms could.

"Don't be sad, Mommy. I love you."

"I love you too, baby."

* * *

Roger came in and nearly tripped over Aaron's toys.

"Aaron!"

The little boy ran in. "Daddy!"

Roger bent down to hug him. "Think you can put away these cars, little man?"

Aaron nodded. He dropped to his knees and began scooping the cars into the bucket he stored them in.

Roger stood up and looked around the living room. "Aaron, where's Mommy?"

"Room. She sad."

Roger went down the hall to their bedroom. The door was slightly open. He stepped in and saw Maureen sitting on the bed.

"Hey, honey. You okay? Aaron said you're sad."

She turned to him, tears streaking her cheeks. Roger knelt down.

"Babe, what's the matter? Something happen? Are you okay?"

Without a word, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the bag, flinging it at him. "I found that when I was doing laundry."

Roger stared at it, shaking his head. He'd been so careful. So careful. "Maureen—"

"You promised."

"I know and I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry."

Maureen shook her head. "You can't…I can't do this. I won't expose Aaron to this shit."

"No, no, you're right. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Get rid of it."

Roger went to their bathroom and flushed it. He had the money to get more later on. That he thought would even occur to Roger made him sick to his stomach. He went back to the bed and sat beside Maureen.

"So what now?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what do we do?"

"I'm done with it. I'm not doing it anymore. I-I'll quit the band."

"You're willing to do that."

"Yes. Yes, I'll do anything. Please…please, just forgive me."

Maureen sighed and looked at Roger. He gently brushed away her tears.

"I'm so sorry…please…"

"You have to quit."

"I'll call Pete tonight."

"The drugs. You have to quit the drugs."

"That's where I was getting them. I'll just quit the band and then I won't be around them."

Maureen sighed. She put a hand on each side of his face. "Swear to me."

"I swear it."


	5. Insurance Policy

Aaron's third birthday came and went. Roger's parents had retired to Florida and weren't able to fly up. Aaron talked to them on the phone and thanked them for the tiny guitar they'd sent him. Roger began teaching him how to play.

Roger was at the store, picking up guitar strings for Aaron, when he ran into Pete. The drummer saw him first.

"Davis! Holy shit, man!"

Roger turned and smiled to see his old friend. "Pete. What's goin' on?"

"Man, it has been too long. You got a minute?"

Roger shrugged. "Sure."

"Come on."

Roger's eyebrows knotted together, confused, but he followed Pete out of the store and into the alleyway beside it.

"What?"

Pete reached into his pocket and pulled out a little bag. "I started pushin'—give you a discount, as a friend."

Roger shook his head. "I don't do that shit anymore. I thought you quit too."

"I did."

"And what happened?"

"I got my head outta my ass. This shit makes me feel like a million bucks and sellin' it makes me damn near that much."

"I-I need to go."

"One hit," Pete said. "For old times' sake?"

Roger shook his head and turned to leave. Pete's hand on his shoulder stopped him. He pressed a small bag into his pocket.

"I don't—"

"Just in case. No charge. Just think of it as an insurance policy…in case you ever need a little getaway."

He didn't plan to use it. The drive home, Roger told himself he would dump it as soon as he got home. The more he thought about it, though, the more Pete's words echoed in his head. Insurance policy. An insurance policy. Just in case. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.

Maureen and Aaron were coloring at the kitchen table. "Hi, honey."

"Daddy get my guitar strings?"

Shit. He'd forgotten the guitar strings. "No, buddy, they didn't have the right kind."

Aaron shrugged. "Okay. Wan' color with me and Mommy?"

"In a minute, okay?"

Roger went to the bathroom. He pulled the baggie from his pocket and set it on the counter, staring at it. Just a little hit. One quick short hit and then he'd hide the rest. An insurance policy. He dumped a tiny bit of powder into the palm of one hand and snorted it. The rush was immediate and almost as good as the first time he'd used. Roger forced himself to put the baggie back in his pocket and rejoined Maureen and Aaron.

* * *

Roger came home from work a few days later and saw Aaron sitting on the couch.

"Hey, little man. What're you doing?"

"Waitin' for Mommy."

"For Mommy?"

Aaron nodded. "Suppose-a wait here and then we gon' go on a trip."

"A trip?"

Must be a new game. Roger smiled and ruffled his hair before heading down the hall to their room.

"Maureen! I'm home!"

He pushed open the door to their room and saw a suitcase on the bed. Maureen was shoving clothes into it, hardly bothering to fold them.

"Baby? What's goin' on?"

Maureen turned to face him as she threw another shirt into the suitcase. "You lied."

"What?"

She pointed at the nightstand. Roger's jaw tightened when he saw the bag on the nightstand. He'd bought it from Pete the day before and must've forgotten to hide it under the floor with the rest of his insurance. He wasn't even planning to use this bit—it was just to make up for what he'd already used. You had to have the whole insurance policy for it to have a purpose, right?

"You lied," she said again.

"I can explain."

"Don't bother. We're leaving."

Roger's heart dropped. "Maureen, no…please, no, I—"

"You swore to me. You swore you wouldn't do this shit anymore. I'm not raising our son with a junkie."

"It's not like that. I can quit! I can quit any time I want!"

Maureen shook her head and threw the last of her things into the suitcase and zipped it shut.

Roger grabbed her arm. "Maureen, please—"

She shook off his arm, picked up the suitcase, and carried it to the living room. Roger hadn't noticed Aaron's little suitcase on the floor beside the sofa. Aaron watched his parents carefully.

"Daddy? You comin' with us to Gramma's?"

Roger shook his head, choking back tears. "No, buddy. This one's just you and Mommy."

"How come you crying, Mommy?"

Maureen knelt down. "Mommy's just a little sad, honey."

"Because Daddy's not coming?"

She forced a nod. "Yeah."

Maureen stood up.

"Maureen, please don't do this," he said quietly.

"Aaron, say goodbye to Daddy."

Aaron hopped off the couch and flung his arms around Roger. "Bye Daddy. I love you!"

"Bye, little man. I love you too."

Aaron headed for the door, waiting patiently for Maureen. She picked up the suitcases and looked Roger in the eye. "Get help. Get clean. Then we'll talk."

When they'd gone, when they'd actually driven away with their suitcases and without him, Roger fell against the door. He brushed away his tears and went to the bedroom. A minute later, he'd filled a needle and tied off. He sighed and injected it into his bloodstream.

* * *

The drunk driver barreled into the car. They both cried out before everything went black. 


	6. Heartbreak

**WARNING: **_This chapter contains drug use and character death and deals with a child death. If such subject matter offends you or makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to skip to the bottom of this chapter where you'll find a short summary of the chapter._

* * *

Maureen came to that evening in the hospital. The doctor gave a faint smile to see her.

"You're quite lucky, Mrs. Davis. Broken wrist, dozen stitches, mild concussion. Other than that, you're fine."

She tried to remember what had happened. Leaving Roger. Aaron. Crashing and shattering. Screaming. "Where's Aaron?"

"Pardon?"

"Aaron. My son. He was in the car with me."

"Mrs. Davis, we've done everything we can for your son."

"What the hell does that mean? Where is he? I want to see him."

She started to stand up. The doctor put a hand on her shoulder. "Mrs. Davis, please. I will take you to see your son momentarily. First, however, I must inform you that his condition is critical. The drunk driver who hit you slammed into the side of the car that his car seat was in."

"How…how is he?"

"Bruises and lacerations to his face and the right side of his body, thirty stitches to his head. He broke an arm, four vertebrae, and cracked several ribs. We had to give him a blood transfusion, but I'm afraid it doesn't look good."

"Is he awake?"

"He's comatose."

Maureen's hand went to her mouth. She blinked back tears. The doctor held out a robe and she slipped it on over the hospital gown.

"Mrs. Davis, I understand that you want to see your son. I'd like if you could wait for just another minute while I get a wheelchair. Your concussion wasn't severe, but I'd prefer that you stay off your feet for the next day or so."

"Fine. Just hurry."

An instant later, he helped her into a wheelchair and brought her down the hallway. Maureen gasped when she saw him. He was lying perfectly still, almost serene, on the pristine white hospital bed. His little body was hooked up to various machines and monitors. Tears filled her eyes.

"I'll have the nurse wait outside," the doctor said.

Maureen nodded and lifted her good hand to hold his. "Aaron? Baby? It's Mommy. Mommy's right here…"

Maureen's tears spilled out, stopping her from speaking. A soft knock on the door startled her. A nurse stood in the doorway.

"Mrs. Davis, I'm sorry. There's a Mr. and Mrs. Johnson—"

"My parents. Let them back."

Her parents came in, their faces full of worry and concern. Her mother held her while they both cried. Her father blinked away tears as he lightly patted his grandson's hand. He looked down to Maureen.

"Where's Roger?"

She shook her head. "I don't know."

* * *

Two days later, Aaron was still comatose and his condition seemed to be worsening. They'd rushed him into emergency surgery already and still planning more surgeries as soon as he was more stable. The doctor came in and checked Aaron's monitors.

"Mrs. Davis, could I please speak with you in the hallway?"

Her mother patted her hand. "Go ahead, honey. I'll stay right here."

In the hallway, Maureen sighed. "What is it?"

"Mrs. Davis, your son's condition isn't improving."

"I know."

"I'm afraid there's really nothing else we can do."

"You've said that for the last two days."

"Mrs. Davis, we received the CAT scan results. Aaron has suffered extensive brain damage. Combined with the trauma of his other injuries, the—"

"Are you trying to tell me that he's going to die?"

The doctor looked at the ground before lifting his eyes to hers. "I'm sorry. Everything the test results are showing suggest that your son is holding on, but barely."

She searched his eyes. "So what am I supposed to do? Tell him to die?"

"Sometimes terminal patients will cling to life until they are certain their loved ones have been able to say goodbye and that their loved ones will be okay."

Maureen nodded and returned to the room. She pulled her parents to the corner and relayed the information. Her mother nodded and pulled her into her arms.

"I can't do it, Mom. I can't do it until Roger…until he says goodbye."

"He hasn't answered the phone, honey. Did something happen between you two?" her father asked.

Maureen nodded but felt oddly protective of her absent husband. "We, um, we just got into this really big fight before the accident…I'm sure he's at the house, Dad. Do you think—"

"I'll go look for him."

* * *

Eddie Johnson sped the whole way to his daughter's house. He parked in the driveway and left the engine on as he ran to the door. It was unlocked.

"Roger? Roger!"

His son-in-law was on the sofa, half asleep. Eddie didn't notice the syringe half-hidden under the sofa or the empty baggie on the table. He shook Roger's shoulder.

"Roger!"

Roger woke with a start. "Wha—"

"Get up. There's been an accident."

"What? Accident? What—where's Maureen and Aaron? Are they okay?"

"We've been trying to call you for two days. I'll explain on the way, we need to hurry."

* * *

Maureen held Aaron's hand lightly, ignoring the cast on her wrist. She stroked his hair with her good hand.

"Hi, baby. It's Mommy. I'm right here. Grandma's here too. And Grandpa went to pick up Daddy, okay? I love you."

She bit her lip as quiet tears slid down her cheeks. A hand touched her shoulder. Maureen turned and saw Roger staring down at them. She stood up and hugged him.

"Maureen, I—"

"We have to tell him it's okay to…to go."

Roger nodded. "I know."

Eddie and Nancy stood back, allowing them their own space. Roger stared at his son and reached out to hold his hand.

"Hey, Aaron. It-it's Daddy. I'm here, little man. So's Mommy. I love you so much, we both love you…"

Roger broke off, crying.

Maureen took a shaky breath. "Honey, we love you so much. And if-if you have to let go…if you want to let go, it's okay. We'll be okay. I love you so much."

Maureen sank down beside him on the bed, curling his little body into hers. She rocked him gently, kissing his hair and his forehead.

"It's okay, baby. Daddy and me love you so much. So much. It's okay," she whispered.

A few minutes later, the heart monitor's steady beating became a long monotonous wail. Roger stumbled backwards as though physically struck by the noise. The doctor came in and switched off the monitors, silencing the room. Maureen's parents said tearful goodbyes and told Maureen and Roger that they would wait in the hall.

Maureen sat frozen on the bed. Roger reached a hand out to her and pulled her to her feet. She fell against his chest, sobbing. Roger clung to her as his own tears cascaded into her hair.

* * *

**SUMMARY FOR THOSE WHO SKIPPED THIS CHAPTER:** _After Maureen and Aaron left Roger, they were hit by a drunk driver. Aaron was critically injured and in a coma for two days before he passed away. Roger didn't answer phone calls and so didn't learn of the accident until Maureen's father went to get him and took him to the hospital in time to say goodbye. Maureen's father didn't notice, but there was an empty bag on the table and a syringe half-hidden under the couch when he went to get Roger._


	7. Too Many Tears

**WARNING:** _This chapter contains drug abuse, alcohol abuse, and adult language. Also, quite a bit of angry fighting/arguing. _

* * *

When they arrived home, neither could say anything. Maureen insisted her parents go home. Roger made a tearful call to his parents telling them of the accident. They had yet to discuss the accident or the fight leading up to it.

Roger hung up the phone from talking to his parents. He found Maureen in Aaron's bedroom. She was knelt beside the bed, sobbing as she clutched his blanket. Roger crouched down and cradled her in his arms.

"Why wasn't it me?" she choked out.

Roger shook his head. "What?"

"I was driving…I—I…it should've been me…"

"No, baby, no…don't do that. It's not your fault," he said, stroking her hair.

They cried together until they fell into a restless, uneasy sleep on Aaron's floor.

* * *

By the end of the funeral, Maureen was numb. She watched in shock as the little coffin lowered into the grave. Roger held onto her, his eyes red with tears. They shook hands and accepted condolences as they waited for the mourners to leave.

When everyone had departed, Roger led Maureen to the car. She'd refused to drive since the accident and avoided even riding in cars. Roger held her hand tightly, glancing over every few minutes to make sure she was breathing steadily.

Roger pulled into the driveway. Maureen got out and went inside without waiting for him.

* * *

The next week passed with Roger and Maureen both in a daze. Maureen cried herself to sleep every night. Roger felt his heart break a little more each time he saw something of Aaron's.

Roger quickly used up the rest of his insurance policy, praying to forget, to be numb. He found Pete and began buying regularly. It wasn't enough to make him forget but at least now he didn't hurt as much. Maureen saw him leaving at strange hours, coming home stoned. She wanted to care, wanted to yell at him, but couldn't bring herself to. Instead, she ignored Roger. As long as he was there when she went to sleep, as long as he held her while she cried herself to sleep, she didn't give a damn what he did.

One afternoon, Roger returned home and found Maureen in their closet, looking through pockets. Through his pockets. She stopped and went to the dresser.

"Maureen, what—"

"Leave me alone," she said, not looking at him.

Roger nodded and went to the kitchen for a beer. A minute later, he came out of the kitchen and saw Maureen standing at the end of the hallway. She held up a baggie.

"What is it?" Her voice wasn't angry or accusatory, merely curious.

"Smack. Heroin."

"What does it do?"

"What?"

"I want to forget."

Tears stung his eyes. "Maureen—"

"Will it help me forget?"

"Yes," he whispered, "for a little while."

Maureen's tears streamed down her cheeks, yet her voice held a calmness it hadn't had since before the accident. "Show me."

"What?"

"Show me. I want to do it."

"No," he said, shaking his head.

"Damn it, Roger! Help me do this. I want to forget!"

Roger shook his head again and stepped towards her. "Baby, no…no, you can't….You're better than this. Please, baby—"

Maureen shoved him away from her. "Don't! Don't tell me that! I can't do this, Roger! It hurts too much, just help me stop hurting…"

Roger caught her as she collapsed into sobs. He wrenched the baggie from her hand and threw it down the hall.

"I miss him…I miss him so much…"

Roger's own cries choked him. "Me too…I know, I know…"

* * *

One night, Roger slipped out of the house, desperate for a hit. He didn't plan to be gone long. As he staggered home, the sun began to rise. He came in slowly, hoping Maureen was still asleep.

"Where were you?"

"Maureen, I—" he turned and saw her sitting with a bottle of wine. "Isn't it a little early to be—"

"Don't you dare lecture me, you fuckin' hypocrite."

"Excuse me?"

"You're stoned! I can tell from across the damn room. At least I don't do this every goddamn day!"

"Well excuse me, princess. I'm sorry I'm not as perfect as you are!"

She shook her head. "This isn't about perfection. It's about keeping promises. You broke your promise and our son is dead!"

"And that's my fault?"

"We were leaving because you couldn't stop that shit!"

"You were the one driving the car! You chose to leave and you chose to take him with you and you were driving the fucking car, so don't you tell me it was my goddamn fault!"

Maureen flung the near-empty wine bottle, narrowly missing Roger's head. She knocked past him and went to Aaron's room. She slammed the door shut and leaned against it as she sank to the ground, crying.

Roger stood stunned for a minute. Why had he said that? Why was he being such an asshole? He wanted to apologize, to swear off drugs forever, to take back everything that had happened…everything he'd said. Maureen slipped out of the bedroom and went to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, she was still in the bathroom. Roger grew concerned. He didn't hear her moving around or crying. Not that he wanted her to cry, but some sound…He knocked on the door.

"Maureen? Baby, are you okay?"

No answer.

"Maureen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

No answer.

Roger tried to open the door. Locked. He knocked again. "Maureen! Baby, just answer me and let me know you're okay."

Maureen opened the door. Roger sighed in relief. He reached for her but she held her hands up to push him away.

"I want a divorce," she said softly.

Roger stood, shocked, as she breezed past him and went to the phone. He stepped into the bathroom and found the baggie he'd hidden in there. A minute later, he'd filled a syringe. He looked around for something to tie off with. His eyes fell on Aaron's belt. Crying again, Roger dumped the contents of the syringe into the toilet with the remainder of the drug in the bag.

Maureen saw him do it. She cleared her throat. Roger straightened up and turned to face her.

"I just wanted to let you know my sister's coming to pick me up. I'm staying with her."

"Maureen, I didn't—"

She held up a hand. "Roger, please. Don't. Whatever you're going to say, don't. I-I can't do this anymore."

Roger nodded, too exhausted to argue.


	8. Starting Over

**NOTE: **_Thanks for all the reviews guys! This chapter's pretty calm. And we meet two of the other Bohos in this chapter._

* * *

The divorce was quick. Maureen filed the paperwork and Roger did nothing to stop it from finalizing. They rented their home so only their possessions had to be divided up. As Roger packed his things, there was a knock at the door.

"Maureen," he said when he opened the door.

"We have to…I just…I want some of his things."

Roger nodded and stepped aside. He followed her down the hall. Maureen stopped in the doorway to Aaron's room. Roger hadn't touched anything. She looked at him, uncertain of where to begin.

"Take whatever you want. Anything, everything. All I'd like to have is, um, is his blanket."

Maureen nodded and tried to smile. "Thank you."

Roger disappeared for a minute and returned with a cardboard box. "Here. Just, uh, let me know if you need more boxes."

Maureen nodded again. Roger excused himself and left her alone in the room. She wasn't sure where to begin, what to take. Her eyes fell on his books. Aaron loved books. Maureen grabbed the handful of books on his little shelf and dropped them into the box. His teddy bear. She took that too. Maureen added a few more toys and knickknacks to the box, leaving the blanket and some other things for Roger.

When she was finished, Maureen went to the living room and saw Roger drinking.

"I'm done. Thank you."

He set his beer down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "It was more than once."

"What was?"

"The cheating. It, um…the night that Mike…that was the first time. But it wasn't the last."

"Why are you telling me that now?"

"I just thought you should know."

Maureen rolled her eyes. "Right."

"I mean it. I'm just…I'm tired of lying to people…of hurting you…"

"So was this a mistress or a string of groupies?"

"Maureen…"

"No, Roger, you want to stop lying, fine. Did you have a mistress or was this a bunch of random groupies who wanted to say they'd fucked a rock star?"

Roger winced. "The second."

"Fine."

Maureen nearly reached the door when he called out.

"Maureen?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I know…I know you don't believe me and it doesn't change anything, but I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…We-we weren't supposed to end up like this."

"Are you still using?"

Roger looked away. "What does that have to do with it?"

Maureen shook her head. "Goodbye, Roger."

_

* * *

Four months later…_

Maureen sat in the Life Café scouring apartment ads.

"Hi," a deep voice said.

Maureen looked up and saw a young African American man smiling down at her, memo pad in hand.

"My name's Benny and I'll be your waiter. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Tea."

"Okay, and did you need some more time with the menu or—"

"Side order of fries."

"Be right up."

She returned her attention to the ads. These apartments were all so damned expensive. Maureen's brother-in-law had helped her get a job as a secretary in the office where he worked, but the salary wasn't nearly enough for an apartment.

"Tough luck?" Benny asked, setting her tea down.

"Thanks. And yeah, you could say that."

"You'll find something, I'm sure," he said, giving her a small wink.

Maureen smiled. At least somebody thought so.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Maureen found herself visiting the café more frequently. It wasn't far from Jen's apartment and the food was cheap. Benny was sweet and became more of a friend. One day, as she sat at the bar waiting for her sandwich, a man approached.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked with a smile.

Maureen looked up uneasily.

"Collins, stop harassing my customers," Benny laughed.

"You're a friend of Benny's?"

"Yeah, could say that. Roommate."

"I'm Maureen Da—Johnson."

"Da Johnson?"

"Johnson."

"What was the 'da'?"

Maureen tried to think quickly. She'd learned over the past couple of months that telling people she was divorced only led to questions she didn't want to answer. "My middle name. Full name's Maureen Daisy Johnson."

"Daisy?"

She shrugged. "Parents were into the whole hippie-culture early."

Collins smiled. "Well it's nice to meet you, Maureen. I'm Collins. Tom Collins."

"Like the drink?" she chuckled.

"You'd be amazed how many people don't catch that one. Guess you could say my parents had a bit of a problem," he laughed.

Benny came over with her tea. "This jerk buggin' you?"

"No, actually. Seems nicer than you," she teased.

"Oh! She told you!" Collins laughed.

His gaze fell on the newspaper in front of her. "Apartment hunting?"

Maureen groaned. "For two months. City's so damned expensive that everything's out of my price range."

"How do you feel about Alphabet City?"

Maureen shrugged. "Doesn't scare me, if that's what you're asking."

"Well, you know, we live in this loft," Benny said. "It's over on Avenue B. Huge and an abandoned building so there's no rent."

"Must be nice."

"You mind regular power outages and a shitty excuse for a heating system?" Collins asked.

Maureen shook her head. "At this point, I just want the hell out of my sister's place."

"Why don't you come live with us? I mean, if nothing else, at least until you find something better."

"Are you serious?" she asked, looking from Collins to Benny and back.

"Yeah," Benny said. "It'd be great to have another female around."

"Another?"

"April. She's been bitching about wanting another girl around anyway," Collins said.

"So you three live together?"

"Four. It's actually me, Benny, April, Mark, and then April's boyfriend sometimes stays over."

"Wouldn't Mark and April get pissed if you guys just bring home some stranger?"

"Nah. Mark's a pretty easygoin' guy and, like I said, April wants another girl there."

"That would be awesome," she said slowly.

"Then it's settled. Soon as we finish lunch, I'll show you to our lovely home," Collins said.

Maureen smiled. "Sounds great."

She and Collins chatted through their lunches. She learned he was a philosophy professor who'd just been let go from Penn State University. The details of her own life she kept vague, but truthful: single, secretary, living with her sister.

"So can I ask you something?" Collins asked.

"Sure."

"How come you live with your sister?"

Shit. She hadn't thought of that question. "My, um, my old apartment caught fire."

"Damn. That musta been rough."

"Yeah...yeah it was."


	9. Moving On

Maureen had been living in the loft for three months. Benny got engaged and Collins was hired on at M.I.T.

One afternoon, Mark asked if she was seeing anyone.

"No, you know I'm not."

"Why not?"

"What?"

Mark shrugged, blushing. "I mean, you're young and beautiful and I can't imagine you'd have trouble finding a date."

"Last relationship I was in ended pretty bad."

"Sorry," he said.

"It's okay…why aren't you seeing anyone?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping I could be."

Maureen gave a small smile. "Oh really?"

"Yeah…see I was thinkin' I'd like to take you out tonight."

"Like on a date?"

"Yes, like on a date."

Maureen hesitated and Mark's smile dimmed.

"It was just an idea," he said. "I mean, if you don't want to or whatever…"

"No, no it's not that. I just…After my last relationship…"

Mark put a hand on hers. "Maureen, I'm just asking you to dinner. If you don't want to, that's fine. But I want you to know that I'm not going to rush anything even if you say yes. I'm just talking dinner, maybe a walk around the park. That's all."

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Have to start dating again sometime, right?"

Mark laughed. "Gee, thanks."

"I'm sorry. That came out worse than I meant…I mean, I do like you. And I'd like to go out with you," she said with a smile.

"Good."

* * *

The next day, April came home. She'd been crashing at her boyfriend's apartment for a few weeks. Maureen hadn't seen much of her and still didn't know her too well. Apparently the boyfriend was in a band and they shot up together.

Maureen was making coffee when she saw her come in. One look and she knew April was high. The redhead had the same glazed over, dazed look that Maureen had seen so many times on Roger.

"Mo? Girl, you home?"

Maureen came out of the kitchen. "Over here."

"Oh good!"

April turned to the doorway and yelled down the stairwell. "Baby! Come up here a minute! I want you to meet Mo!"

Maureen heard heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs. She rolled her eyes. Great. Another junkie to meet. Maureen sighed and turned to get a mug for coffee.

"Hey," a male voice said.

Maureen froze. There was no way…She turned to see April, her boyfriend's arms wrapped around her waist.

"Roger?"

She barely recognized him. He'd lost weight. His hair was now bleached and cropped shorter than usual. His casual jeans and tee-shirt had morphed into torn jeans and a sleeveless shirt. His eyes held the stoned gaze she'd hated so much.

"Maureen."

"You guys know each other?" April asked, smiling.

"Yeah, we—"

"Went to school together," Maureen said. It wasn't a lie. Just not the full truth. "I, um, I was just on my way out though. I'll see you guys later."

"Out where?" April asked.

Maureen pulled her jacket on. "Told Mark I'd meet him."

Another lie. Mark was filming somewhere, Maureen wasn't sure where. Still, she needed to get out of there. To get away from Roger. Besides, he'd moved on from her. Shouldn't she make it clear she'd moved on too?

_

* * *

One week later…_

As the sun set over the city, Maureen sat on the roof alone. She heard the door open and shut. She heard the door open and shut.

"Maureen," Roger said.

She turned to him. "What?"

"I didn't now…I mean, April just refers to you as Mo. I didn't think…I didn't know that meant…"

"I didn't know you were the boyfriend."

"I'm sorry. It's just—"

"Don't apologize. We're divorced, remember? Not like being married stopped you."

"Don't be like that," he said softly.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Besides, I'm seeing someone too."

"Yeah, April told me about you and Mark. He's a good guy."

"I know."

"Have you told him about…us?"

"No. Have you told April?"

Roger shook his head. "I thought I should talk to you first."

"I don't want to tell them."

"What?"

"I don't want to tell them. They know we went to school together and that we lost touch. That's the truth."

"So we just pretend we weren't married, that Aaron—"

"You want to tell them what happened? You want to tell them that you got hooked on drugs and cheated on your wife and that your son died when she tried to leave you?"

Roger flinched. "Don't. Don't blame me."

"I know. It's my fault anyway."

"That's not what I said."

"You didn't have to."

Roger sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. We won't tell them. But what if they do find out?"

"How would that happen?"

"I don't know. I'm just trying to think ahead."

Maureen rolled her eyes. "Fine. If they find out, we'll tell them everything. Together."

"Promise me that, Maureen."

"I'm not the one who needs to make promises, Roger."

She knocked past him and stormed back down to the loft.


	10. Her Name Was April

_Two weeks later…_

Maureen came home from work and saw the police outside the loft. She ran to the nearest one.

"What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, miss, we can't—"

"I live here!"

"Where?"

"Top floor loft."

"Maureen," Mark said.

Her head snapped to him. His face was paler than normal, cheeks streaked with tears. She ran to him and flung her arms around him. "Mark! Mark, what happened?"

"April…she, um, she…" he broke down in tears.

"What happened? Mark, where's April? Where's Roger?"

"April killed herself," he whispered.

"What?"

"She…she slit her wrists in the bathroom…I…by the time I got home…she…she…"

Maureen pulled his head to her shoulder and she tried to comfort him as her own tears slid down her cheeks.

* * *

Roger stumbled through the city streets. He didn't have enough to get more smack and couldn't bring himself to go back to the loft. April. April…she was already gone by the time he got there. Mark found her and called the cops. He wandered into a bar and sat down.

"What can I get ya?"

Roger pulled out the couple dollars he did have on him. "What can this get me?"

The bartender eyed him for a minute then shook his head. "Here. On the house. You look like you need it," he said as he set a beer in front of Roger.

Roger thanked him and shoved the crumpled bills back into his jacket. The drink was nearly gone when Benny showed up.

"What the hell are you doin'?"

Roger looked up, tears in his eyes. "Benny, April…"

"I know. Maureen called me. Mark's a wreck. What the hell are you doin' here?"

"What do you think I'm doing?"

"Come on," Benny said.

Benny pulled out his wallet and set a few bills on the counter to cover Roger's tab. He took Roger by the elbow and led him out to the street.

"Come on, man. You gotta come back."

"Why? You don't."

Benny sighed. "Okay. I deserve that. But I don't come back because I've moved on with Allison. Not because I'm running from dealing with shit."

"I'm not running."

"What do you call it?"

Roger looked at the ground. Benny stared at him. "Look, Roger, I know we don't always see things eye to eye but you're not the only one hurting right now."

"You hardly even knew her! You met her twice!"

"I'm not talking about me! I'm talking about Maureen, who can't stop crying. I'm talking about Collins, who's on his way home to bury one of his best friends. I'm talking about Mark, who's so fucking traumatized right now that he won't say a single word to anyone!" Benny shouted.

Roger froze. Maureen was crying. They didn't know why. It wasn't April. He knew it wasn't April. Maureen didn't know her that well. It takes Maureen a while to get attached. This was bad. And Mark, most days he couldn't get Mark to shut up for five minutes. Now he wouldn't talk?

"Are you coming back or am I gonna have to tell them you chose the booze and drugs over them?"

He didn't answer Benny but followed him silently back to the loft. As they rounded the corner, Roger felt himself tense up. He needed a hit. Needed it bad. Nausea swept over him. He reached out and grabbed Benny's arm.

"Whoa, you okay?"

Roger shook his head and stumbled into the alleyway. He threw up and was surprised to feel Benny's hand on his back.

"It's all right, Rog…"

After a minute, he stood back up.

"Feel better?"

Roger shook his head.

"That from what happened or because you haven't had a hit?" his voice wasn't angry or harsh, just concerned.

Roger blinked back tears. "Second," he said quickly.

Benny nodded. "You need to stop that shit." Without waiting for Roger to answer, Benny went back to the street. "You coming?"

Roger nodded and followed him upstairs. The police had left and Mark sat with Maureen on the couch. She was sobbing into his chest. He rubbed her back, her hair, but didn't say anything. Just stared straight ahead. He was on complete auto-pilot.

Roger looked at Benny. "Talk to him. I'll calm her."

"You sure?"

Roger nodded and crossed the loft to the couch. He put a hand on Maureen's arm. She lifted her head enough to see who it was. He pulled her up into his arms. Benny hauled Mark into his bedroom and shut the door. Roger knew there would be no way to get Mark to snap out of it while his girlfriend was hysterical in front of him.

"Maureen, it's okay…it's okay…"

"No, it's not," she cried.

Roger wrapped his arms tighter around her. He whispered in her ear, "It's not your fault."

Maureen pulled back. "Did you see the note?"

"Note? What note?"

Maureen shoved him away and went to the metal table. She handed Roger a slip of paper. "Mark found this on the bathroom counter."

_Baby we got AIDS._

"Is this a joke?" he asked, reading the words again and again.

Maureen shook her head. "I don't know. But I think we should get tested."

"We?"

"If you have it, there's no way to know when you got it."

_

* * *

Three weeks later…_

"Roger, open the door," Mark said, his voice tight with restrained anger.

"Leave me alone!"

"You can't stay in there forever!"

"Watch me!"

"I can't watch you if you don't open the fucking door!"

Collins sighed. "Let me try."

Mark stepped aside and went back to the kitchen. Maureen handed him a cup of coffee. He took it and smiled, kissing her softly. "Thanks."

She wrapped her arms around his waist, needing to feel someone there. Her mind kept flashing back to their house in Pennsylvania. The fights, the screams, the drugs…Mark set his cup down and wrapped his arms around her.

"He'll be okay, babe. We'll get him through this."

She nodded and looked up at him. "Let me try talking to him."

Mark nodded. "Sure."

Collins was quickly losing his temper. "Roger! Open the fucking door!"

"Go to hell!"

"Boy, so help me God if you don't open this door right now I'm kickin' it in!"

"Collins, let me try," Maureen said.

He stepped aside, shaking his head. Maureen knocked softly.

"Go to hell! Just leave me the fuck alone!"

"Roger, it's me," she said calmly. "Can-can I come in?"

Collins rolled his eyes and looked at Mark, who only shrugged. The door clicked open and Maureen slipped into the room, shutting the door behind herself.

"What the hell just happened?" Mark asked.

"Think we just entered The Twilight Zone," Collins said with a small laugh.

* * *

"Can I sit down?" she asked.

Roger nodded and scooted over on the bed. She sat down and reached over to brush one of his tears away.

"Why won't you come out?"

Roger shook his head. "Because I'm a fuck-up. Because all I do is hurt people. Because I'm dying. Pick a reason."

"You're not a fuck-up."

Roger looked at her. "Yes, I am."

"Roger, I know you better than anyone. You're a lot of things… A drug addict, occasionally a pain in the ass, but you're also a good friend and a talented musician and a good man."

Roger turned from her, shaking his head. "If I'm so good, then how the hell did I end up here?"

"You made some bad decisions."

Roger rolled his eyes. "Understatement of the century."

Maureen put her hand on his back. "But you don't have to keep making them."

"I hate who I am," he mumbled.

"What?"

"I hate who I am, who I've become." She didn't have to see his face to know the tears were streaming down his cheeks. "I don't want to be like this."

"You don't have to," she said, turning him towards her. "Let us help you. Me, Mark, Collins…let us help you get clean once and for all."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because that's what friends do. And once upon a time we were best friends. We always swore that that wouldn't change, no matter what else did."

Roger nodded, pursing his lips. He dried his cheeks with the backs of his hands and took a shaky breath. "Okay."

Maureen stood up. "Let's go."

She opened the door and led Roger out. Mark and Collins stared, jaw-dropped. Collins found his voice first.

"What's goin' on?"

Roger looked at Maureen. She nodded to him. "Go ahead. If you really want this, you need to be the one to say so."

He nodded. "I, um, I want to get clean. I don't want to be like this. And I know…I know I've been a jerk and I know I don't deserve it but I just…I need help. I can't do this myself."

Mark stood up and hugged him tightly. "We'll help you."

"You will?"

"Course. That's what friends do."

Collins smiled and stepped up. He waited for Mark to move and hugged Roger. "I'm proud of you, boy."

Mark smiled. "I don't know how you managed to get through to him, but thanks."


	11. I've Got to Go

**NOTE: **Okay, so now we know Maureen and Roger's story. But how does it affect other Bohemians? More importantly, why does it affect them? Thanks for all the great reviews, I hope you all continue to enjoy the story!

_

* * *

Present…_

"So that's it. That's the whole story," Roger said.

Joanne shook her head and stood up. "I need to go."

Maureen wiped at her tears. "Jo—"

She walked to the door.

"Joanne!" Collins said.

It was the tone that usually stopped any of them in their tracks. Not today. Today Joanne kept walking without glancing back.

Maureen went to the bathroom and locked the door. Roger looked at Mimi, tears in his eyes. "I…I…"

Mimi went to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Collins, Benny, and Mark stared at one another.

"One of us should go talk to her," Collins said, staring at Mark.

Mark looked away, not answering.

"Fine. I'll do it," Benny said.

Collins watched him head to the bathroom door. Benny could hear Maureen crying through the door. He knocked softly.

"Maureen, can I come in?"

There was no answer.

"It's just me, girl. Just me."

The door clicked as she unlocked it. Benny went in and shut the door. Maureen sat on the edge of the tub crying. Benny knelt in front of her.

"Maureen?"

"I miss him so much," she whispered.

Benny wasn't sure what to do and reacted the only way he knew how. He pulled her into his arms and rocked her gently as she cried.

* * *

Roger pulled back from Mimi. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you, but I—"

Mimi put a hand lightly over his mouth. "I understand, I think."

Roger sighed and held her tightly.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you have any pictures of him?"

"One."

"Can I see it?"

Roger looked confused.

"He's your son. I'd like to see what he looked like, if it's okay with you."

Roger nodded and went to his room. He returned a minute later with a snapshot. Mimi's mouth curved up into a tiny smile. Roger sat beside her with the picture. Roger and Maureen looked young, a couple of years younger than in the other pictures Mimi had seen. Both were smiling. A little boy sat between them, grinning. A cake was on the table in front of him.

"His third birthday," Roger said, hands shaking. "That's when-when we took it."

"He was beautiful. Maureen's hair, but the eyes, the smile…those are yours."

Mark watched them for a minute. "Can…can I, um…"

Roger nodded and held out the picture. Mark took it and looked at it. His face paled and his eyes filled with tears as he handed it back.

"I have to go," he mumbled and ran from the loft.

* * *

Maureen and Benny came out of the bathroom. Collins crossed over to her and hugged her.

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you guys," she said.

Collins shook his head. "Don't worry 'bout it."

She smiled and hugged him.

"Angel knew."

"What?" she asked, pulling away.

"Before Angel died, she, uh, she said to tell you and Roger that the boy loves you. She was drifting in and out, though; I didn't know what the hell she meant. I figured she was delirious or something, but now…"

Maureen nodded and smiled. "Thank you."

She crossed to Mimi. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Mimi nodded and smiled. "I wish you had, but I think I understand. I mean, it's got to be hard to talk about."

Maureen nodded. "Thanks."

"Roger showed me a picture. He was beautiful."

"Yeah," she said with a sad smile. "Wait—you have a picture?"

Roger nodded.

"Why wouldn't he?" Mimi asked.

"I told her that I'd divided all the pictures between our parents. But, yeah, I kept one."

"Could I see it?" Collins asked.

Roger handed it over. Collins stared at the picture and smiled. "If it wasn't for that Johnson hair, I'd swear this was Roger."

Roger smiled even as a guilty sadness settled over his face.

"Where'd Mark go?" Benny asked.

Mimi shrugged. "We were looking at the picture and he got this weird look on his face, said he had to go, and just left."

The phone rang. "_Speak!_"

"Guys, it's me. Is Maureen still—"

Maureen lunged at the phone. "Pookie, I'm sorry I didn't te—"

"I can't see you anymore."

"Joanne I told you I'm sorry!"

"I know and I forgive you. I just…I just can't be with you anymore."

Collins saw her getting more upset. He laid a hand on her shoulder and took the phone from her.

"Joanne, come back."

"Collins, you don't know—"

"I was sitting right here with you, Joanne. Don't tell me I don't know."

She sighed. "Is Mark there?"

"He took off."

"Not surprised," she mumbled.

"Joanne, just come back."

"Meet me."

"What?"

"You alone. Meet me at the Life in ten minutes. Please, Collins, do this. But come alone."

He sighed. "Yeah, yeah, okay."

He hung up and turned to the remainder of the group. Maureen was crying as Mimi tried to comfort her.

"She wants to talk to me in person and alone."

"Why?" Benny asked.

Collins shrugged and pulled on his jacket. "I don't know but I'll see if I can get her back."


	12. I Know Who Did It

Joanne was seated in the back corner table of the Life Café when Collins arrived. Her eyes were red with tears. Collins hugged her before sitting down.

"What's goin' on, girl?"

"I can't be with Maureen anymore."

"Why not?"

She shook her head.

Collins sighed. "Joanne, I know we all feel like they should've told us but you can't—"

"I'm not mad. I don't blame them."

"Then why can't you forgive her?"

"I do forgive her…but if she finds out, she'll never forgive me."

"If she finds out what?"

"He's not in jail," she said as another tear slid down her cheek.

"What? Who?"

"The bastard that hit them."

Collins frowned. "Jo, they didn't mention—"

"They didn't have to."

"Well what does that have to do with you?"

"Because I was his lawyer."

* * *

Mark walked the city streets until he came to the public library. He paused at the payphone outside.

"Hello?"

"Mom, it's me."

"Mark! I'm so glad you called, honey. You never return my calls. Are you—"

"I'm fine, Mom. I've just been busy. But I'm calling now because I have to ask you something and I need you to answer me."

"Of course, honey."

"Dad's accident—"

"Mark, let's not bring up the past."

"Mom, I need to know when it happened."

She sighed. "March 1986. Why?"

"N-nothing. Nothing. I just…I gotta go, Mom. I'll talk to you soon."

"I love you, Mark."

"Love you too, Mom."

Mark hung up and went into the library. He headed straight to the reference desk.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked.

"I need Pennsylvania newspapers from March 1986."

Two hours later, Mark found the article he'd been looking for. The article he prayed would clear his conscience. It didn't. He stared at the article for a few minutes before turning and running from the library. When he got outside, Mark ducked into the nearest alley and threw up.

* * *

"So when you walked out…"

"I went to the office and looked up the case."

"You got files that old?"

"Only four years ago…Besides, it was my first case."

"Joanne, you—"

"Collins, I got him off. You know how long that son of a bitch served? The two weeks it took me to get him a deal. I pled him down to aggravated assault. He got time served and five years of probation, plus loss of license for two years."

"You're a lawyer, Joanne. You did your job."

"My job is to see justice done."

"Joanne, even if you hadn't made that deal, nothing would be different for Roger or Maureen."

"Collins, if they find out, they'll hate me."

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Jo, you didn't know either of them. Why would they hate you for doing your job?"

"Because I blamed them."

"What do you mean?"

Joanne sighed. "The prosecutor didn't want to offer a deal…I did some digging and found out about Roger's drugs and that Maureen was leaving him when the accident happened. I told the prosecutor that if we went to trial, I'd call them both to the stand and make it look like it was their own fault because Maureen was hysterical when she was driving."

Collins took a slow breath. "Damn…"

"I didn't know how old Aaron was until after…That's the one and only case I've ever defended. After that, I switched to prosecution."

Collins shook his head. "You can't leave Maureen over that."

"Over that? That bastard killed her son and I helped him get away with it!"

"Calm down. Why don't you explain what happened to Maureen and let her decide whether she wants to be with you? At least give her that choice."

Joanne looked away.

"Jo, she at least deserves to know why you left."

* * *

Mark made his way back to the loft. Benny told him Collins was out talking to Joanne.

"Mark, I'm sorry we didn't tell you," Roger said.

He hugged Roger tightly and leaned down to hug Maureen.

"Why'd you leave?" Mimi asked.

Mark shook his head. "I just had to see about something."

"See about something?" Roger echoed.

Mimi watched Mark for a minute and then stood up. "Ben, let's go see if there's any food at my place."

"But I'm not—"

She sighed. "Benny, come with me so Mark can talk to them alone."

"Oh…"

Mark waited until their footsteps had retreated downstairs.

"What did you have to see that couldn't wait?"

"I had to see the newspaper reports."

"What?"

"About the accident."

Roger's eyes filled with accusatory tears. "What? You didn't believe us? Did you think we were lying?"

"No! No, I knew you weren't."

"Then why did you need to look it up?"

Mark stared at the floor. "I needed to know who did it."

"What? Why?"

"Because."

"Mark, seriously, stop dodging questions. Why did you look it up?"

"I told you. I had to see who hit…who was responsible…"

"And did you?"

Mark couldn't look at them. "It was my dad."

"What?"

"My dad's the one that hit Maureen and Aaron."


	13. Mark's Flashback

**NOTE: **So Mark's revealed that his dad hit Maureen and Aaron. This chapter's Mark telling Maureen and Roger about that day. It's a little long, but I wanted to get the whole flashback in one chapter.

**WARNING:** This chapter deals with issues of alcoholism and domestic violence. If either topic makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to skip to the bottom of this chapter and just read the summary.

_

* * *

Mark's Flashback_

The phone rang as he was finishing up a term paper. "Hello?"

"Mark, we need you to come home."

"Cindy, I have class in twenty—"

"Dad was in a car accident."

"What? Is he okay?"

"I—I think he's okay…they haven't said anything. We're waiting in the E.R. and Mom's hysterical."

"I'm on my way."

* * *

The first thing Mark saw was his mother talking to a police officer. He went to the waiting room to look for his little sister.

Cindy sat with a quiet glare in the corner.

"Cindy, what's going on?"

"He's fine," she said flatly. "He's got a concussion but he's fine."

Mark sat beside her. "So that's good, right? Why do you look pissed?"

"Our asshole father was drunk."

"Oh God…that's why Mom's talking to that cop…"

Cindy nodded, her glare softening from anger to sadness. "He hit someone."

"Shit…"

"A woman and her kid."

"Her kid?"

Cindy nodded again. "Hit the back of the car, the side the kid was on."

"Are, um, are they okay?"

"Don't know. Woman is, I think. I heard the doctor telling the cops she's got a busted arm and concussion."

"And the kid?"

Cindy shrugged. "Don't know."

Mark sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "When did he start drinking again?"

Another shrug. "Month ago, maybe two."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"Mom said not to and Dad said he'd kick me out."

"So come live with me."

She rolled her eyes. "You live in a dorm."

"We'll get an apartment."

"And do what? I'm barely sixteen. What the hell would I do? I haven't even finished high school. Besides it's not that bad…"

Mark sighed again. "I just hate you and Mom being there alone with him when he's been drinking."

Cindy patted his hand. "It's okay Mark. He usually just leaves us alone."

"Usually?"

Cindy looked away. Mark grabbed the sleeve of her jacket, ignoring her protests, and yanked it off. He pulled up the sleeve of a tee-shirt. A deep purple handprint circled her upper arm. Mark gritted his teeth.

"What happened?"

"Asked if I could go to prom," she said softly. "It's not a big deal so don't make it one."

Mark was about to say something when their mother approached.

"He's going to be released in a few hours to police custody."

"Mom, why didn't you tell me he was drinking again?"

"Because, dear, you know…you know how your father gets and I remember what it was like for you before…"

"So you figured you'd just let him take it out on Cindy this time?"

"What?"

Cindy's eyes widened. She grabbed Mark's arm. "Mark, shut up."

"She doesn't even know?"

"She was at work. I should've known to wait till she was there. I—"

"Don't! Don't make excuses for him."

Mark turned to their mother. "Did you know she asked about going to prom?"

She shook her head slowly.

"Cindy, show her."

"Mark…"

"Show her."

Cindy shook her head at Mark. "Just leave it, Mark."

"Mom, she's got a bruise around her arm."

Their mother sighed, her eyes full of tired tears. "Mark, please…"

"You two can't stay with him."

"Mark, it's not that bad," Cindy said. "He's an asshole and he pisses me off, but he mostly leaves us alone."

"Mostly isn't good enough!"

"Cindy, come on. We're leaving," his mother said.

"Mom, please, you can't—"

"Yes, Mark, I can. I am a grown woman. No matter how much of an adult you think you are, you are still my child. And he is still your father. And he's still the one paying for you to go to school."

"You're really going to hold that over my head?"

His mother shook her head. "Mark, please, don't make this worse than it already is."

"Fine. You can't let him know that he doesn't have to worry about my tuition. I'm dropping out."

Cindy glared at Mark and headed down the hallway. "I'll wait in the car, Mom."

Their mother looked from Mark to Cindy and back. "I need to go."

* * *

Mark sat in the waiting room of the hospital, uncertain of what else to do. After a few hours, he went downstairs to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee. He didn't want to go back to the dorm but refused to go to his parents' house. An older man came in, looking tired and sad. Mark wondered what his story was. The man purchased a coffee and sat at a table across from Mark's.

"You believe in fate?"

Mark looked up. "Excuse me?"

"Fate. You believe in fate?"

Mark shrugged. "Never really thought about it."

The man smiled wistfully. "Most kids your age don't…"

"Are, um, are you okay?"

The man nodded. "I'm fine. Sorry. Didn't mean to be disturbing you."

"Oh no, you're not disturbing me. You, um, you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," the man said, gesturing to the empty chair across from him.

"I'm Mark," he said, offering a hand.

"Eddie."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Eddie stared at him a minute. "So tell me, Mark, what's a young man like you doin' in a hospital in the middle of the day, if you don't mind my asking?"

"My father was in an accident."

"He all right?"

"Yeah, yeah…I just needed to clear my head, you know?"

Eddie nodded. "Daughter was in an accident too. Her and my grandson."

Mark's heart sank. He took a drink of his coffee. "Are-are they okay?"

"Daughter's gonna be fine. But Aaron…doctors aren't so sure yet on him. Lots of injuries and whatnot…He's a tough little guy, though. You mind if I play proud Grandpa and show off a picture?" he asked, fishing out his wallet.

Mark smiled. "Not at all."

Eddie pulled out a wallet-sized portrait. A dark-haired little boy with bright green eyes. Mark smiled at the picture, forcing himself to stay seated and not bolt.

"Cute kid."

"Thanks. That's our little Aaron."

Mark smiled. Eddie took another drink of his coffee. An older woman came in.

"Eddie? Eddie, come on. He's out of surgery."

Eddie jumped up. "Oh! That's my wife. Aaron's out of surgery so maybe we can see him soon. It was nice talkin' to you, Mark."

"You too, Eddie. I hope everything's okay for your daughter and Aaron."

"Thanks. I'll keep your father in my thoughts."

* * *

**SUMMARY: **Mark was in college. Cindy, his 16 year old sister, called to tell him their father was in an accident. By the time he arrived, Cindy had learned that he'd been drunk and hit a woman and her child. Mark learned that their father had been drinking again for the last 1-2 months and was abusing Cindy. He tried to reason with her and his mother, but both insisted things weren't so bad and told Mark to leave it alone. When his mother reminded him that his father was the one paying for his schooling, Mark announced he was dropping out. After Cindy and his mother left, Mark went to the hospital cafeteria to get a cup of coffee. He ended up talking to Eddie Johnson, Maureen's father, who was waiting for Aaron to get out of surgery (and Maureen to regain consciousness). Mark realized Eddie was the father of the woman his dad hit but didn't say anything. Eddie showed him a picture of Aaron, hence Mark's recognition of Aaron in the snapshot Roger showed him. 


	14. Not Your Fault

**Note: **_Sorry for the delay...the next chapter will be up in a little while though. This story's winding down. Thanks for all the reviews!_

* * *

Maureen stared at Mark for a minute before speaking. "But my dad met you…he never…"

"It was before I got my glasses and my hair was longer then. Even if he had recognized me, he didn't know it was my dad that hit you guys."

"You never mentioned that your dad…"

Mark's eyes glittered with unshed tears. "I know and maybe I should've. I just… I had no idea…I didn't know how to bring it up."

"Mark, you do know it's not your fault, right?" Maureen asked.

He looked away, a few solitary tears sliding down his cheeks. Roger stood and went to him. He grabbed Mark by the shoulder and turned him around.

"It is not your fault, Mark," he said, tears in his own eyes.

"My dad killed your son."

"Exactly. Your dad did it. Not you," Maureen said.

"If I had been home—"

"Don't. Don't do that. Maureen and I have done that enough to ourselves. I won't let you do that to yourself too."

Mark jerked away from Roger. "It's true, though. If I had been home, he-he would've had a way to…he would've been too busy…he never would've…"

"Mark, he beat the hell out of you. You had a chance to get the hell out of there and you did. That's what any normal person would do!"

He wouldn't face Roger or Maureen. He was shaking slightly. "I should have known. Then I would've come home and he—"

Roger stepped towards him. "Not your fault, Mark. I'm Aaron's father and I'm telling you, it's not your fault."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Maureen said.

Mark turned and looked at her.

"Don't," she said. "It means you did something wrong and you didn't. Roger's right. It's not your fault."

Mark turned towards the door, wanting to bolt again. Roger wrapped his arms around him, holding him in place.

"Roger, let go of me."

"No."

"Let go of me!" Mark squirmed in Roger's arms. Roger held Mark's back firmly against his chest.

"Not until you say it."

"Say what?"

"That it wasn't your fault."

"Don't do this, Roger," Mark said softly.

"Say it. I'll hold you here all night if that's what it takes for you to say that it wasn't your fault," Roger's voice cracked as he spoke. He refused to let Mark blame himself for what Roger felt was his own fault.

The trio sat in silence for a minute.

"You're…you're right," Mark mumbled.

"About what?"

"Everything."

"Say it."

"You're right about everything."

"Mark, just say that it wasn't your fault. I need you to know that it wasn't your fault."

Something in Mark crashed away and he began to cry. "It wasn't?"

"No. It wasn't your fault," Roger whispered, still holding him tight. "Say it."

"It wasn't…it wasn't my fault…"

Roger took a deep breath. "No, it wasn't. It wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't my fault."

Mark turned in Roger's arms and hugged him tightly. The two cried, Mark repeating over and over, "not my fault, not my fault." Roger whispered reassurances to Mark that he didn't blame him, that it wasn't his fault. When they pulled apart, Maureen was standing beside them, new tears on her cheeks.

"It wasn't your fault, Mark," she said, hugging him.

He managed a nod and hugged her tightly.

* * *

Roger called downstairs to Mimi's loft. "You guys wanna come back up?"

"Yeah, we'll be right there."

A minute later, Benny and Mimi returned to the loft.

"Everything okay?" Benny asked.

Mimi saw that Mark was now crying to and went to him, hugging him. She didn't ask what was wrong, didn't try to reassure him. After a minute he pulled away.

"I think they should know," Mark said.

Maureen nodded. "If you want them to."

Mark nodded and looked at Benny and Mimi. "My dad…my dad was the drunk driver that hit them. I didn't realize it was Maureen until she was telling us the story and…" he shook his head as he broke off in tears.

Maureen turned him towards her and put a hand on either side of his face. She touched her forehead to his, both staring into each other's eyes. "Mark, listen to me. It was not your fault. And you had no way of knowing it was me."

Mark nodded and moved out of her reach, sitting on the couch. She followed suit but didn't touch him. Benny took a seat on the floor, resting his elbows on his knees. Mimi hugged Roger tightly and snuggled down in his lap in the armchair.

"Can I ask something?" Benny asked.

Mark nodded.

"How is it that your dad's not in jail?"

Mark shrugged and sighed. "Tell you the truth, I'm not sure. He was arrested and everything. Mom wouldn't even hire an attorney for him so he just had the public defender."

"And what happened? Did he go to trial?"

He shook his head. "There was some sort of plea bargain. I never knew the details. I was trying to find somewhere to live by that point."

The loft door slid open and Collins and Joanne came in.

Maureen's face lit up. "Pookie!"

She ran towards Joanne but stopped when Joanne held her hands up. "Maureen, wait…I have to tell you something. You and Roger."

"Should we leave you guys alone?" Benny asked.

Joanne shook her head. "You guys deserve to know too. And if you guys want nothing to do with me after I tell you, I understand."


	15. I Blame Myself

**Note: **The section in Italics is Joanne's flashback to the case.

**WARNING: **This chapter contains characters with suicidal thoughts.

* * *

"When I first became a lawyer, I was a public defender. I only tried one case…the guy who hit Maureen and Aaron…I was his attorney."

"You were my dad's attorney?"

She nodded, blinking back tears. "I didn't make the connection that it was your dad until I looked at the file again when I left…"

"You were his lawyer?" Maureen echoed.

"Honeybear, I am so sorry…"

"Joanne, you did your job. You were a public defender and fought the case assigned to you," Roger said, his voice slightly numb now.

"I got him a plea."

"How?"

"What?"

"How did you get a plea that he didn't serve any jail time?" Mark asked.

Joanne blinked back tears. "I, um…I did some digging…I didn't know who…I didn't know it was you guys…"

"Jo, you didn't know us then," Roger said. "Just tell us what happened."

* * *

"_We want a deal," Joanne said._

_The district attorney rolled her eyes. "Your client drove drunk and hit a young mother and her child, killing the child."_

"_The child survived the accident."_

"_And died days later from injuries sustained in it."_

_Joanne took a deep breath. This was her first case. She had to win it at all costs. She had to prove herself. "My client was not responsible for the injuries he sustained."_

"_Are you serious?"_

"_Look, you and I both know the father is on drugs."_

"_That has nothing to do with your client—"_

"_Unless, of course, you can prove he wasn't abusive."_

"_What?"_

"_The mother was leaving the father. She was overly emotional, not paying attention."_

"_You're actually planning on using that as your defense?"_

"_If the child's father wasn't on drugs, the mother wouldn't have been leaving. If the mother hadn't been hysterical, she might've been able to swerve and prevent the accident."_

_The district attorney shook her head. "This is unbelievable. Your client is a drunk driver who killed a child and you're going to blame the parents?"_

"_All I have to do is convince twelve people that there's a chance one of them could've prevented it."_

_The woman sighed. Joanne could see the resistance in her wearing thin._

"_I'll put them both on the stand without hesitating. You want to put them through that?"_

"_What kind of deal are we talking?"_

"_Driving while intoxicated, assault."_

"_Manslaughter."_

"_Aggravated assault is the highest we're willing to plead to."_

"_For what?"_

"_Loss of license for a period of two years, probation for five years."_

"_And jail time?"_

"_Time served."_

_The woman closed her files. "We'll let you know."_

* * *

"She came back and accepted the deal and that was the end of it."

"You were going to blame them?" Mimi asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

Joanne nodded. "I'm not proud of it and if I could do it over, I never would've taken the case."

Maureen got up and walked out without a word to any of them. Mimi looked to Roger.

"Go after her," he said quietly, nodding. Mimi kissed him and ran out of the loft.

Benny stared at the ground, not sure what to think. Mark sat on the couch completely still, as uncertain as Benny. Collins tried to read each man's expression. Roger's eyes filled with tears.

"Roger…Roger, I'm so sorry…" Joanne said.

Roger ignored her and went to his room. Benny saw Joanne's tears turning to sobs. Collins hugged her to him. Benny felt confusion turning to anger. They could forgive Mark, be okay with Mark, and not Joanne. He went to Roger's room and knocked on the door.

"Rog, it's me."

There wasn't an answer so Benny opened the door. "Roger?"

"Leave me alone." His voice was soft and pleading. He sat on the bed facing away from the door.

Benny instead stepped inside and shut the door. "Roger, I know you're upset with her—"

"I'm not upset with Joanne."

Benny stared at Roger. "Then who?"

"Nobody."

Benny sighed. "Are we gonna play twenty questions or are you gonna just tell me why you're in here?"

"Because she's right," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Because she's right! It was my fault and I fucked up and now my son is…is…"

Benny took a step closer. "Roger, it's not your fault. You didn't hit them."

"She was leaving because of me. Because I was on drugs and I was cheating and I wouldn't stop."

"You made some mistakes. Killing Aaron was not your mistake."

Roger shook his head and jerked away when Benny tried to touch his arm. "Yes it was! Don't you get it? I may as well have driven the car. If it wasn't for me she wouldn't have left! She wouldn't have put him in the car! She wouldn't have been driving on that road!"

Benny leaned forward and caught a glint of something in Roger's hand, poised over one wrist. He nearly threw up when he realized what it was.

"Roger, give me the knife."

"I can't do this, Ben…"

"Yeah you can, Roger. Just hand it to me."

"I can't…I can't…I miss him so much and it's my fault…it's my fucking fault that he's dead…"

"Roger, do not do this. Give me the knife. If not for yourself then for Mimi. For Maureen. She already lost Aaron, do not put her through losing you."

Roger's shoulders shook with his tears. Benny reached around and slowly pulled the knife away from him. He set it on the nightstand and turned Roger towards him. Roger's head fell to his shoulder.

"It's okay, man…It's not your fault. It's not your fault…"

* * *

"Maureen! Maureen, wait!" Mimi called.

She caught up with Maureen halfway down the stairs.

"I'm not going back up there," she said through her tears.

"How about we go to my loft? I can make you some tea."

Maureen gave a reluctant nod and let Mimi lead her to the apartment. Inside, she sat on Mimi's couch, shaking.

"You cold?"

"Little."

Mimi grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her friend's shoulders. "Better?"

Maureen nodded, not meeting her eyes. Mimi stood up and went to the kitchen to turn the kettle on.

"I'm going to call upstairs and just tell them where we are."

"I don't want to see anybody."

Mimi nodded. "That's fine. I just don't want them to worry."

Maureen nodded. She heard Mimi calling upstairs, talking to someone, Collins from the sound of the conversation. When she'd hung up, Mimi returned to the kitchen and fixed a cup of tea. She brought it to Maureen with a small smile.

"Here. This'll warm you up."

Maureen held it and took a small sip. "Joanne was right," she said.

"What?"

"About it being my fault."

Mimi wrapped an arm around her and stroked her hair with the other hand. "No, no, chica…she even said if she could do it again, she wouldn't. She only said that—"

"I don't care if she meant it. She was right."

"Maureen, it wasn't your fault."

"I was hysterical. I was crying and upset and I shouldn't have gotten behind the wheel and now…now…"

Mimi took the mug of tea from her, afraid she'd scald her lap from the force of her trembling. She set it on the coffee table and hugged Maureen tightly.

"It's not your fault, Maureen. It's not your fault any more than it is Mark's or Roger's."

"I was his mother. I was supposed to protect him."

Mimi pulled back enough to wipe away Maureen's tears. "Sweetie, this wasn't something to protect him from. It happened and there was nothing you could do."

"But if I had seen him—"

"If you had seen him and swerved the wrong way, you might've both died."

Maureen looked at Mimi, tears still falling. "I wish I had died with him."


End file.
